


To Cradle You and Softly Sing

by riventhorn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Consensual Sex, Domestic Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Nesting, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Post-Canon, Some angst, That's the kink here actually, brief mention of mpreg but none in this fic, nuzzling, so much domestic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9330659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: Yuuri has never felt much like an alpha. But now Victor has started nesting in preparation for his heat and clearly thinks that Yuuri is going to be the one who helps him through it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> alfalfalf has been translating this fic into Chinese--the first chapter starts [here](http://aliefu.lofter.com/post/1e952be5_1045ef1b).

Yuuri stared at the coatrack on the wall of Victor’s apartment, frowning. He could have sworn that last night he hung up his scarf there when they got home from the rink. He had draped it over his coat, which was sandwiched in between two of Victor’s. The scarf had fallen onto the floor, and he had picked it up and rehung it. But now the scarf was not there. It wasn’t in his room either because he had just spent five minutes scouring the closet, the dresser drawers, and his suitcases with no results.

It was especially annoying because this wasn’t the first of his scarves that had gone missing. He had brought two scarves to St. Petersburg, one black and the other a navy blue. Three days ago, the blue one had disappeared. He’d assumed he’d left it at the rink by mistake and switched to the black one. But now he had _no_ scarf, and it was ten degrees outside and likely to snow. 

Yuuri went into the other room. Makkachin was lying in his dog bed. He wagged his tail when he saw Yuuri, who gave him a stern look. 

“Makkachin, what have you done with my scarf?”

Makkachin closed his eyes and tucked his nose under his paws. 

“None of that now.” Yuuri sat down on the couch and started putting on his shoes. “Maybe you didn’t steal my scarf, but you’re still coming for a run with me. You don’t get to laze around in bed.”

If Makkachin hadn’t taken his scarf—and really, Makkachin wasn’t the sort of dog who liked chewing on unattended objects—then what had happened to it? The only other person in the apartment who could have taken it was Victor, and why would Victor want one of his scarves? Victor had about ten of his own, more than any one person needed, really. 

Forty minutes later, Yuuri arrived at the rink, out of breath and with a very cold nose. Makkachin danced in circles around him as he tried to open the door. Victor was already here, of course, practicing early with Yakov. In the afternoon, Victor coached Yuuri. Sometimes Yuuri felt guilty about this, because he could tell that Victor was tired by then, but Victor always waved his concerns away. 

“It’s a good way to build my stamina,” he would say. “And besides, I couldn’t let a day go by without seeing you skate, Yuuri.” 

So Yuuri stopped protesting, flustered but pleased, and made sure to cook dinners in the evening. Victor would either try to be helpful and end up burning something or else curl up on the couch with Makkachin to take a quick nap. When he woke up, he always came and put his arms around Yuuri, nuzzling him sleepily. Yuuri would still his movements, tilting his head so his nose brushed Victor’s hair. His body warm from sleep, Victor’s scent was always particularly strong in those moments.

It was one of the few times when Yuuri truly felt like an alpha with Victor. It seemed like Victor was always the one taking care of him—coaching him, supporting him, letting Yuuri live in his apartment. Yuuri knew he shouldn’t try and conform to those tired old stereotypes of dominant alphas and submissive omegas. But he couldn’t help judging himself sometimes, thinking that anyone looking at them would assume Victor was the alpha and he was the omega and not the other way round. 

He wasn’t weak. He _knew_ he wasn’t weak. And yet—

Yuuri twisted the ring on his finger, standing in front of his locker at the rink. 

_An engagement ring_ , Victor had said. 

Could he really be the person Victor needed—no, deserved? Sometimes he still looked at Victor and saw him as he used to be—his idol, so distant and unreachable, so captivating. He knew better now—knew Victor was a human being with flaws. He wasn’t perfect, but he was still _Victor_ , and Yuuri was…

Well. 

No matter what they might have liked to believe, neither Victor nor Yuuri himself could keep skating competitively forever. Eventually this was going to end. And when it did…what then? 

On the ice, he could be someone special, someone who could captivate Victor too. Off the ice, it was a different story. When Yuuri was no longer doing quadruple flips and triple axels, when he’d gained some weight back (inevitable if he wasn’t competing), when he was doing…what? Coaching? Sports commentary? Working at the onsen back in Hasetsu? 

Would Victor really stay in love with him then? 

“Oy.”

Yuuri jumped, startled from his thoughts. Yurio had come in the door and was now digging a sweatshirt out of his locker. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he looked sweaty and out of sorts. 

“You planning to stand there all day or actually practice?” Yuri demanded. “Victor’s waiting, you know.”

“Already?” Yuuri glanced at the clock. “But it isn’t even eleven yet. Usually he’s with Yakov until noon.”

Yuri shrugged. “Not today. Yakov’s been lecturing _me_ instead and nagging me about my footwork.” Here Yuri went into a long rant in Russian, slammed his locker door, and stomped back out into the hallway. 

Yuuri changed quickly and hurried out to the rink. Sure enough, Victor was sitting over by a window, bundled up in his coat and staring outside. Makkachin had found him already and was sitting in front of him, drooling with eyes affixed to Victor’s face, angling for one of the treats he knew Victor kept in his pockets. 

“Victor,” Yuuri called out, and Victor turned, smiling.

“Good morning, Yuuri!”

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked, looking critically at Victor for anything obviously amiss. “Shouldn’t you still be practicing?”

“I was feeling a little sick this morning. _You_ know,” Victor said. Yuuri did _not_ know, but Victor was already continuing, “That means we’ll have more time to practice your jumps! Oh, and I have good news—Lilia agreed to let you take some ballet lessons with her. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Yuuri did not think this was wonderful at all. Lilia Baranovskya terrified him. She would be nothing like Minako, and Yurio would probably be there too, an angry bundle of teenage angst. (He loved Yurio but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend several hours in a ballet studio with him and Lilia, getting yelled at by both of them.)

Victor ushered him onto the ice, and soon Yuuri was lost in the routines and the dread of the promised ballet, putting aside his worries about Victor. After all, Victor didn’t seem that sick. It was probably just a touch of stomach flu or a little cold. He’d be sure to make some soup tonight and buy some herbal teas.

Victor did seem more tired than usual, though. He fell asleep on Yuuri’s shoulder on the bus ride home that night, and when they got into the apartment, he mumbled something about being in his room. 

And then, while Yuuri watched, bemused, he pawed through Yuuri’s backpack, extracted the sweaty t-shirt Yuuri had worn that day in practice, and walked off to his bedroom, clutching it to his chest. 

Was he taking it to the laundry hamper? No—he had never seen Victor do anything resembling household chores since he’d been here. He wasn’t sure how Victor had managed before—perhaps he’d bewitched hapless neighbors into helping. 

Maybe Victor was running a fever and was delirious.

Concerned, Yuuri went to the bathroom and rummaged around until he found a thermometer. He’d better take Victor’s temperature, just to be safe. He could always run out to the store for some medicine, if necessary. 

When Yuuri moved in, Victor gave him the guest bedroom for his own. Often, Victor ended up sleeping there with Yuuri, but on some nights, Yuuri liked having some space to himself. Yuuri had never slept in Victor’s bed or spent much time in Victor’s room. There was something…sacrosanct about it. He felt a thrill, half curiosity, half anxiety over the idea of seeing all the private pieces of Victor’s life that must be in there like photos and childhood mementos. If he did, it would mean that Victor trusted him to know those things and that was—that was—well, Yuuri didn’t know quite how he would handle that. 

So he paused for a long minute before knocking on Victor’s door. Making sure Victor wasn’t running a fever was the most important thing here, he reminded himself. 

“Come in,” Victor said in a muffled voice. 

Yuuri opened the door, took one step, and then stopped dead. 

_So this is where my scarves went,_ he thought hazily, through the shock. 

Victor raised his head over the arrangement of pillows, blankets, Yuuri’s scarves, one of Yuuri’s sweaters that he hadn’t even noticed was missing, and now Yuuri’s t-shirt that covered his (ridiculously huge) bed. “What is it, Yuuri?”

 _He’s nesting. Oh my god, his heat is coming. He’s making a nest, and it has_ my _clothes in it. That means—_

“Yuuri, is everything okay?” Victor peered at him, frowning. 

It meant that Victor expected Yuuri to be with him during his heat. He expected Yuuri to be his alpha. 

Yuuri clenched his hands and staggered back out into the hallway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for potential triggery content: Yuuri experiences the beginnings of a panic attack in this chapter

Of course, Victor followed him, worried at his abrupt departure. He found Yuuri slumped on the couch, head in his hands. 

“Yuuri?”

“You’re nesting,” Yuuri said, and a hysterical giggle escaped before he could clamp his mouth shut.

“Well, yes.” Victor sounded puzzled. 

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

Victor blinked. “You didn’t know?” 

“How was I supposed to _know_?” he demanded. 

“My scent, of course.” 

His scent? Now that he mentioned it, perhaps there was something. Yuuri sniffed, attentive now. It was an additional layer of sweetness, sticking to Victor’s normal scent like honey on a spoon.

Victor smiled. “You really didn’t know? You’re so innocent, Yuuri—” He reached out to touch Yuuri’s head, perhaps to give his hair a fond ruffle, but Yuuri jerked away.

“You know I’ve never been with anyone before!” His voice was too loud, and he was flushed, heart beating rapidly. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Victor said, contrite. His hand was still reaching toward Yuuri, but he dropped it, curling his fingers into the hem of his shirt instead. 

Yuuri swallowed, taking a deep breath. That was a mistake for the nesting scent seemed to be everywhere. Perhaps it was because Victor was close to his nest, talking with Yuuri about…about his heat, but the scent kept getting stronger, overpowering and insistent, rich and heavy in the air. “Why aren’t you taking suppressants?” 

“Why would I?” Victor asked, still so bemused. “You’re here with me now, Yuuri.” 

If only he could escape this scent—he felt dizzy, panic edging over him. He stood up and went to a window. When he opened it, the cold air rushed in, chilling his skin. After a few deep breaths, he turned around again. 

Victor was staring at him, his confusion turning to hurt. 

“I…I was hot,” Yuuri mumbled. 

Victor’s mouth trembled. “Don’t you like the way it smells?” 

He wanted to apologize, to rush over and wrap Victor in a hug. But then he would be deluged in that scent again. Panic choked his throat. 

“You should have told me,” he said. “You should have talked to me about it.”

“I thought I didn’t have to.” Victor’s brow furrowed as he became angry and frustrated in his turn. “Why should I have to when you’ll be there with me? When I know you’re my alpha?”

A terrible pause. 

“You will be there with me, won’t you, Yuuri?” Victor whispered. 

Yuuri was shaking. He crossed his arms over his chest, squeezing, digging his fingers into his sides. It was so hard to breathe. He screwed his eyes shut.

When he opened them, Victor had disappeared back into his bedroom. 

Yuuri shut the window. He went into the kitchen and stared at the refrigerator. He went back into the hallway, coming to a stop in front of Victor’s door. 

Victor’s sweet nesting scent had been overridden by a sour, wounded smell. It was so strong he could scent it clearly even through the door. He knew Victor must be curled in his nest, bereft, perhaps crying. 

Guilt swamped him, mingling with the residual panic to create an awful, churning mess in his stomach. 

He thought about opening the door, of apologizing, of crawling into Victor’s nest with him and calming him, nuzzling his neck until that sweet scent returned. 

The thought—of being in Victor’s nest and the memory of the sweet smell—sent a surge of arousal through him, so powerful that he staggered back a few steps. 

Combined with the guilt and panic—it was too much. He fled, shutting the door of his room and burrowing under his blankets. 

The dark, close space helped. His heartbeat slowed. But Victor’s scent lingered here too. It was Victor’s normal smell that Yuuri had grown used to over the months they spent together. It was comforting, absent that strange, frightening new nesting scent that had taken over. But it made him ache too. It reminded him that he had hurt Victor. 

Tears slipped down the side of his nose, and he hid his face in his pillow. 

*

For most of the night, Yuuri suffered through a repetitive spiral of emotions—panic, guilt, arousal, worry, panic—over and over again. Finally, at around four in the morning, he sat up and turned on his lamp, hugging his knees to his chest and trying to calm down. 

His eyes alighted on the bedside table. His Japanese to Russian dictionary sat there, next to the Japanese grammar textbook that Victor was reading. Victor liked to turn their studying into a game. 

“If you remember these four Russian words, you get a prize, Yuuri!” he would say while sneaking his cold feet under Yuuri’s legs. 

“What kind of prize?” Yuuri asked, wincing at the touch of Victor’s freezing toes. You’d think that being Russian, not to mention an ice skater, would have given Victor some immunity to the cold. When they were at the rink he was all right, but in the apartment, he always got chilly and treated Yuuri as his own personal heater. 

Victor put a finger against his lips, considering. “A kiss! Or chocolate!”

Yuuri made a face. “Those are things _you_ want.” 

Victor pouted. “Yuuri won’t kiss me. So cruel!” 

Trying to hold back his blush, Yuuri leaned over and kissed the side of Victor’s mouth. Victor immediately turned into it, making happy noises and trying to lick and nip his way to Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri had to put a hand in his hair to hold him still. 

“Oh, but I forgot to test you on your words!” Victor exclaimed when they parted, and Yuuri had to laugh.

Remembering it now made him smile, despite everything. He reached over and picked up Victor’s textbook. Learning each other’s language—that wasn’t a small thing, was it? It went beyond the skating. Years from now, Yuuri would be able to sit in a restaurant here in St. Petersburg with Victor and order a meal. Victor would be able to have a conversation with Yuuri’s family in Hasetsu entirely in Japanese. 

_You will be there with me, won’t you, Yuuri?_

Of course he would be. Of course—and yet—to be Victor’s alpha….

Victor believed in him. He believed that Yuuri was a talented, beautiful skater. He believed Yuuri could win gold.

Yuuri had _asked_ Victor to believe in him. And he had proven that Victor’s faith in him was justified. 

But that was on the ice. Off the ice was a different matter entirely. 

It wasn’t just the sex either, although the thought of being at the mercy of his instincts made him deeply uncomfortable. He and Victor had been taking things very slowly up to now, and Yuuri was comfortable with that and thought Victor was as well. 

But being Victor's alpha meant more than sex. It meant meeting _all_ of Victor’s expectations, of being the mate that Victor deserved. 

What if he failed? 

It would be worse than not winning a medal—so much worse. The thought of seeing disappointment in Victor’s eyes—dissatisfaction—of hearing Victor sigh and knowing that he was wishing he was with someone besides Yuuri. He didn’t think he could survive it. 

At six-thirty, Yuuri forced himself out of bed. He went to the kitchen and made breakfast, his hunger made even worse by his anxiety. 

At seven, Victor emerged. He was dressed for practice, but looked exhausted and disheveled. Yuuri tentatively scented the air. The hurt was still there, not sharp now, but a steady undercurrent, dragging down the usual lightness of Victor’s smell. The sweet nesting scent kept spiking and then fading briefly before flaring up again. 

They sat down without speaking and stared at the plates of eggs, fruit, and toast that Yuuri had prepared. Yuuri started eating, dogged. Victor took two bites of his toast and then let it fall back onto his plate. He picked off pieces of the crust and fed them to Makkachin instead. 

“You’re right,” Victor said abruptly. “I should have talked to you about it.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Yuuri mumbled. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry.” 

Several seconds of silence passed. Yuuri pressed his hands together in his lap, locking his fingers together. 

“Your scent is v-very appealing. I—” He could feel his ears turning red. 

Victor raised his head, his breath catching. Then—

“ _Yuuri_.”

Only his name, but he knew exactly what Victor wanted—what they both needed. A moment later they were in each other’s arms, nuzzling and scenting, Victor whining low in his throat as he clung to Yuuri. The sweet smell rolled over Yuuri, and he could feel himself responding. Helpless, he pushed his hips against Victor and hid his face in Victor’s chest. “I’m scared,” he whispered. “I want to be there for you, but I’m scared."

Victor cupped his face and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Don’t be scared, Yuuri. Don’t worry. I won’t make you—we don’t have to do it. Another time, when you’re comfortable with the idea. I’ll be fine—I’ve managed by myself before now.” 

“That’s…” He twisted his hands in Victor’s shirt. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” 

“My heat won’t start for a day or two yet. You can think about it, all right? But whatever you decide is fine.” 

Always when Yuuri opened up to Victor, he was met with understanding and acceptance. Calmer, he drew back enough to meet Victor’s eyes and moved his hands so he was gripping Victor’s upper arms. Then he leaned up and gave Victor a firm, deliberate, and very thorough kiss. 

Victor made a muffled noise of surprise that swiftly turned eager. His nesting scent welled up and spilled over them. It buffeted Yuuri, reminding him of the time Victor made him and Yurio stand under the waterfall, the water forceful yet somehow peaceful, shutting out all other noise. 

“I can’t stop it; I’m sorry,” Victor whispered. “I can’t go back on suppressants yet either.” 

“It’s okay.” He sighed, rubbing his nose along Victor’s jaw and feeling almost drowsy, his earlier arousal becoming a muted, background hum. “It’s like being under a kotatsu.” 

“Really?” Victor sounded extremely pleased and proud, as though Yuuri had been praising his quadruple flip. 

“Mmmhmm.” He knew he hadn’t told Victor everything yet, and that he would have to make a decision about whether to nest with Victor during his heat. But it could wait a little longer. For now this was enough, the close comfort of each other easing their hurt and fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually when I write a/b/o fics, all the compulsive/instinctual/dub-con overtones of a heat is a major kink for me. But I absolutely cannot write these two like that. Mind you, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with writing them like that, I just can't do it. So, although I am somewhat regretful over the dub-con breeding kink that I will not be giving myself, I am surrendering completely to the consensual kink, and the nuzzling and nesting, and the fluff, oh, so much fluff. 
> 
> Probably three more chapters to go--one more of the serious stuff and then I'm going for two chock full of smut, if at all possible. Fluffy smut--well, mostly as you can't completely avoid instinctual urges in heat sex.


	3. Chapter 3

They drove to the rink, as neither of them felt up to jogging. Yuuri was grateful no one besides him would be able to smell Victor's nesting scent. The pheromones omegas emitted as they drew near a heat were chemically attuned to their chosen mate or mates. Others would still be able to smell something different, but they wouldn't experience the scent's true character. But of course, it was still clear to anyone paying attention that they were both exhausted and that Victor looked flushed, as though he were ill.

"Do you feel sick?" Yuuri had asked him before they left their apartment. "Maybe you should stay here."

"I can manage for today," Victor replied and then paused before adding, "My stomach is unsettled, though—would you make me some miso soup for dinner tonight? It always tastes so good."

"Of course." Yuuri fiddled with the keys in his hand. "If there's anything else that you need, you should tell me because I, w-well I don't know anything about nesting beyond the basics and—"

"I will. Although...."

"What?"

"Well, this is my first time experiencing a heat with an alpha. It's different. My nesting urges were never this strong. I never made an actual nest before." Here Victor blushed a little.

"It looked very comfortable," Yuuri ventured.

"It is!” Victor grabbed his arm. “But I want to add that green sweater of yours that's so soft."

"I'll get it for you when we get home," he promised.

Victor smiled, pleased, and then gasped as he thought of something. "But none of your old suits, Yuuri! Don't try to put any of them in my nest."

At the rink, Victor followed him to the locker room, waiting while Yuuri changed, seemingly reluctant to leave his side. Victor wasn't going to try and skate that day, but he wanted Yuuri to run through his routines at least once. They were at the edge of the rink, talking about the step sequence, when Yuri skated over, frowning.

"Good morning, Yurio," Victor said, but Yuri didn't complain about the nickname, looking between the two of them instead, his eyes narrowing.

"What did you do to him?" he finally demanded of Yuuri.

"W-what?" Yuuri squeaked, startled and narrowly avoiding being stabbed in the collarbone by Yurio's accusing finger.

"Victor's scent is…. It's all wrong. And it's probably your fault."

Yuri must be able to smell the remnants of their argument, still clinging to them like a pall of smoke, as well as the hints of Victor’s nesting scent. 

"Yuri." Victor's voice was calm but held a clear warning note. "Leave it."

Yuri turned to him, distressed. "If he hurt you, I'll—"

"Yuuri didn't do anything. I'm all right. I promise."

Yuri searched Victor's face and then slowly nodded.

Smiling, Victor slipped an arm around Yuuri's shoulders. "It's a couple thing!" he chirped.

Yuri's face contorted its way through several different expressions before settling on outraged disgust. "If you ever say that to me again, I'll puke on your shoes," he declared and skated off in a flurry of chipped ice.

"So adorable," Victor said, indulgent.

It _was_ very sweet of Yurio to be so worried about them. Although Yuuri did wish he would express that worry in a less... abrasive way. But he was getting used to Yurio's methods of communicating his feelings. Now Yurio was arguing passionately with Yakov about something, as though to prove he wasn't _really_ so attuned to Victor and Yuuri's scents as to stop his practice to come find out what was wrong.

Yuuri didn't do horribly during practice, but he wasn’t exactly great either and after an hour or so, Victor called a stop to it.

“Let’s go have a massage,” Victor suggested. 

“Actually, I—I think I might go home and take Makkachin for a walk.” He cleared his throat. “I need to think for a bit and—and talk to a friend.” 

“Okay, Yuuri.” Victor squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“You’ll be all right?”

Victor considered and then nodded. “I feel like I need to be back in my nest soon, though.” 

“Maybe you should just come home. If you—”

“A massage will be relaxing for me,” Victor said, adamant. “And I want to buy some more pillows for my nest.” 

“Call me if you start to feel sick or—or anything,” Yuuri said, thinking of Victor suddenly overcome with his heat in the middle of a store—perhaps trying to build a new nest on one of the display mattresses or something. 

“I promise. And Yuuri, don’t take _too_ long of a walk. Even if you decide we shouldn’t nest together during my heat, I still want you there, in our apartment. I think I’ll need you close.”

“Okay.” Yuuri let out a long breath, trying to release his worries with it, and then wrapped Victor up in a tight hug. With his skates still on, they were the same height, and he could nose the spot right behind Victor’s earlobe and the end of his jaw. 

An eager Makkachin greeted Yuuri back at the apartment. Yuuri changed his shoes and then fetched Makkachin’s leash. On his way to the door, he passed Victor’s bedroom, and he paused. He’d only had a glimpse of Victor’s nest yesterday. But no—he couldn’t intrude. It would violate the safe, soft haven Victor had made to have Yuuri poke around there uninvited.

On the street, he took out his cell phone and thumbed through his contacts until he found Chris’s number. 

“Yuuri?” Chris said when he answered after a few rings. 

“Hi, Chris. Can you, um, talk for a bit?”

"Sure, I’m on a break right now. You don’t often call me, Yuuri.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He coughed to clear his throat. “How is practice going?”

“All right. Victor told me you’re doing wonderfully.”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s heart thumped. He’d had no idea Victor was talking to Chris about him—and praising his skating too. “It’s Victor who’s doing the most work, though—skating _and_ coaching.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing him back on the ice.”

“Me too.” He and Chris shared a moment of silence to appreciate the fact that Victor would be skating with them in competition again. “Victor is why I called, actually,” Yuuri continued. He gathered his courage and then blurted, “He’s nesting.”

“Oh?” Chris said, his voice as mellow as always. 

“Yes. And I….”

“You’re an alpha, aren’t you, Yuuri?”

“Yes,” he admitted in a small voice. 

Chris hummed. “Are you going to nest with Victor?”

“I don’t know.” He was gripping the phone so hard his fingers were aching.

“I see.” Chris’s tone was nonjudgmental and calm. This was why Yuuri had wanted to talk to Chris, out of all the alphas he knew. 

“Chris, have you ever been with an omega during their heat?” he asked. 

“Twice. It was a lovely experience both times.” He could hear Chris’s smile.

“Really?”

“A nest is a very… hmmm, how to describe it? A very comforting place? We could be so open with each other. My omegas both looked after me when I got heat-dazed. I did the same for them too. When you’re with someone you trust, it doesn’t have to be scary, even when the instinct gets overwhelming.” 

Yuuri was glad Chris wasn’t there in person. He wasn’t sure he had ever blushed so much in his life. But he had to know what this was like. “And what happened after?”

“After the heat was over, you mean? Well, I’m still close to one of the omegas, although we’ve agreed not to nest together again until I’m done competing. The other omega is with someone else now. We still exchange gifts on holidays.” Chris paused. “But Yuuri, I’m sure that Victor wants to stay with you. I don’t think he’d ever want another alpha.”

Yuuri was dimly aware that he had come to a halt on the sidewalk, forcing people to walk around him, and that Makkachin was looking back, puzzled as to why they had stopped. “When I’m not in competitive skating anymore…. When I’m… ordinary….”

Chris laughed softly. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Yuuri.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Maybe you should ask Victor that,” Chris suggested. “Talk to him.”

“I guess.” Yuuri sighed. 

“If you decide to nest with him, make sure that you have plenty of food and water on hand. He’ll be weak and sleepy sometimes, so try and get some rest in between the sex,” Chris instructed. “Warm baths are very soothing for omegas too.”

“I’ll remember,” Yuuri mumbled, wondering if he would still be so embarrassed at the mention of sex if he could actually recall doing that pole dance with Chris in nothing but their underwear and his tie. “Thank you, Chris.” 

“It’s my pleasure, Yuuri.”

Mindful of his promise to Victor to be home in good order, Yuuri turned around after he said goodbye to Chris. Makkachin trotted at his side, alert for squirrels. 

The way Chris described it, nesting sounded charming and enjoyable. Nothing but food, sleeping, warm baths, and sex for a day or two. Really, when you put it like that—Yuuri had a sudden vision of a plate of rich, fried food. If nesting wasn’t reason enough to put aside a diet for a few days, what was? 

And he trusted Victor. More than anyone. Victor didn’t want some stereotypical alpha—he wanted _Yuuri_ to nest with him and help him through his heat. 

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri straightened his shoulders, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and took a detour to the grocery store to buy as many snacks and cookies as he could manage to carry.

When Victor got home, staggering through the door sideways thanks to the two immense pillows in his arms, Yuuri was waiting for him on the couch, gripping the fleece blanket he liked to take with him on the airplane and the green sweater he had promised to Victor for his nest.

“These pillows are so soft, Yuuri,” Victor said upon seeing him. “Like lying on clouds!” 

Yuuri stood up. "Would you like help arranging them? And maybe—maybe I could add these?” He held up the blanket and sweater. 

Victor’s eyes widened. “Does that mean…?”

Yuuri nodded, giving him a tentative smile. 

“Oh, Yuuri!” Beaming, Victor dropped the pillows and seized one of his hands. “I’m so glad. It will be wonderful, you’ll see, and I wanted you so. Come—now I can show you my nest properly.” 

Victor tugged him to the bedroom and ushered him inside. When Yuuri had glimpsed Victor’s nest yesterday, it had been very neatly put together but now was in disarray due to Victor’s being so unsettled and unhappy the night before. 

Yuuri crawled onto the bed, still a bit hesitant, while Victor went back to fetch the new pillows. When he returned, he had also shed his coat, scarf, and boots. He joined Yuuri and together they began straightening and rearranging. Victor picked up Yuuri’s fleece blanket and rubbed his cheek along it, eyes closed in bliss, before tucking it carefully along the nest’s lining. They didn’t speak, but Victor’s nesting scent began intensifying, rolling off him and filling the room. 

Reminding himself of what Chris had said, Yuuri took a deep breath, concentrating on fluffing the pillow in his hands. Warmth—softness—yes, there was nothing to be afraid of here. 

In fact, he was beginning to feel very sleepy and rather too hot. He pulled off his sweatshirt and toed off his socks. He wanted to curl up in their nest and sleep. 

“We can have a bit of a nap,” Victor was murmuring. He yawned, eyes closing. “I didn’t get any sleep last night and—oh, but wait!” 

Yuuri jolted into alertness as Victor straightened. 

“Makkachin,” Victor continued. “He can’t possibly stay here while we’re nesting.”

“Could Yurio—”

“No, his cat doesn’t like Makkachin. It scratched his nose the last time we tried to visit.” Victor sighed, mournful. 

“Then Yakov—”

Victor waved a hand. “No, no—I’ll try Georgi. He has a little Schipperke, you know, who gets on with Makkachin, although she does like chewing on Makkachin’s ears sometimes. But he can put up with it for a few days.”

Victor called Georgi, who agreed to look after Makkachin and would come over to get him in half an hour. It was difficult to leave their nest, but they did, gathering all of Makkachin’s food, bowls, treats, and toys. Victor insisted on putting them in one of his suitcases. 

“Only for a little while, Makkachin,” Victor promised, getting on the floor to give Makkachin a hug. 

When he arrived, Georgi remained in the hallway, politely refraining from stepping into their territory. Although Yuuri had never felt particularly territorial before, the thought of Georgi approaching their nest made his stomach twist anxiously. 

“Is this your first nesting together?” Georgi asked as he took Makkachin’s leash. 

“Yes.” Victor reached for Yuuri’s hand.

“How delightful.” Georgi sighed wistfully. Then he spotted Makkachin’s suitcase. “Oh, he comes with rather a lot, doesn’t he?”

“You can share the treats with little Svetlana,” Victor said.

“Be careful about leaving food out where he can steal it,” Yuuri added, mindful of past events. 

Victor started fidgeting, the pull of his nest distracting him. Catching on, Georgi said goodbye, promising to text updates and photos, then departed with Makkachin and his suitcase in tow. Victor immediately shut and locked the door. 

“There.” Victor sighed and draped himself over Yuuri’s shoulder. “I’m so tired, Yuuri. Take me back to our nest, please.”

His earlier lethargy had receded somewhat, and Yuuri wanted to do a few things before surrendering to the soporific effects of the nest again. So he gripped Victor firmly and directed him to the kitchen table. “First I’m making you that miso soup. Chris said I needed to make sure you ate enough and drank enough liquids.”

“Oh, did you talk to Chris?” Victor asked, obediently following Yuuri’s lead and sitting down in a chair. 

“Yes. I was scared about, well, losing control, but he said nesting wasn’t frightening.”

“That’s nice,” Victor mumbled, head drooping. 

“But, Victor, I have to ask— _Victor_.” He gave Victor a little shake, and Victor roused, blinking at him. “What about, uh, pregnancy?” His ears went red, and he had to look away. “I mean, that’s a possibility, right?”

“I’m still on birth control,” Victor said. “So we don’t need to use condoms. But…I think we should save a conversation about children for another time, don’t you, Yuuri?”

Yuuri nodded fervently and allowed Victor to drowse again while he made the soup and some tea. He coaxed Victor into waking up long enough to eat. Then they abandoned the dishes in the sink and stumbled back to the nest. Yuuri stripped down to his shorts, starting to feel hot again, but Victor put on his pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt, complaining about having the chills. 

“Let’s get you warmed up then,” Yuuri said as they curled into the center of the nest. Victor snuggled up against him, and Yuuri pulled some of the blankets over them, making sure Victor was tucked in tightly. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Victor said again. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry for—for being silly and upsetting you.”

“Not silly. No. I understood.” Victor’s words were heavy and slow, and a few seconds later he fell asleep.

Yuuri struggled against it a bit longer. It was getting dark in the room, but he could still see Victor’s face, even though his vision was blurry without his glasses. 

He was getting used to sleeping at Victor’s side now, but he still marveled at the feeling of tender protectiveness that it engendered. To watch someone so dear while they were completely unaware of you. To be alone with your love, able to silently contemplate it, even as you were still in the living presence of the person who inspired it. 

And then to find sleep yourself, knowing they stayed near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nesting: achieved. Next chapter: smut.


	4. Chapter 4

_It’s supposed to be cold in Russia,_ was Yuuri’s first bleary thought upon waking. His next was the observation that Victor was draped over him, naked, with his face tucked against Yuuri’s neck where his scent was strongest. That must be why he felt like he was in a sauna—that, and the countless pillows and blankets piled around him.

_Our nest_ , he remembered.

“Are you awake, Yuuri?” Victor asked, raising his head. “I very much hope you’re awake.”  

Victor was flushed and sweaty, but his scent had changed too. The sweet, nesting scent was gone, as was the usual complex blend of smells that composed what Yuuri had come to recognize as Victor’s own, particular scent. In its place was only the smell of Victor’s skin and sweat. It made him intensely aware of Victor’s body, lying heavy atop his own.

Victor’s full heat had come on, then. 

Before he quite knew what he was doing, his fingers were skimming along Victor’s inner thigh. Victor helpfully crooked a knee to give him access. He brushed the curve of Victor’s buttocks, then in between, and found him drenched and slick. He rolled his fingers in it and brought them to his mouth—clear…thick…salty. He sucked it all off and swallowed, then kept swirling his tongue around his fingertips, searching for more.

Slowly, he became aware that Victor was staring at his mouth, mesmerized, and rubbing his erection against Yuuri’s stomach.

If they had been anywhere else, Yuuri would probably have frozen, embarrassed and unsure. But in their nest, with nothing but Victor’s heat-scent around him, he only felt calm—and increasingly aroused.

In truth, they hadn’t had much sex yet. Victor was content to let Yuuri try things at his own pace, figuring out what they liked and didn’t like. Victor was partial to oral sex and always succeeded in making Yuuri come embarrassingly quickly. Yuuri had twice sucked Victor off after a shower, kneeling on a towel on the bathroom floor, Victor’s hands in his hair gently encouraging him, and getting hard himself at the sound of Victor murmuring instructions and praise. He also loved watching Victor masturbate (a fact Victor had to coax him into admitting while Yuuri kept his hot face buried in a pillow). 

But often, Yuuri found as much enjoyment and pleasure in simply holding each other in bed, exchanging frequent hugs, and showering together. Victor seemed pleased as well, fairly radiating happiness even when they did something simple like clasping hands. 

But now he felt _very_ into the idea of fucking Victor. He’d been afraid it would be too out-of-control and scary, but it wasn’t. Only different, and a bit intense. But he was still himself, with a new facet of his body, and of Victor’s, to explore.

"Victor, do you want—”

“Yes,” Victor said before he could finish the question.

Yuuri tried again. “You want me to—”

“Don’t tease, Yuuri,” Victor protested, plucking fitfully at a pillow. “I woke up so slick and too warm, and I’ve been waiting and waiting while you were sleeping. And yes, I want you to fuck me. You’re my alpha, Yuuri. You promised—you _said_ you would.”

Real distress was entering Victor’s voice. Grasping him by the shoulders, Yuuri gently, but firmly, rolled him onto his back. “It’s all right. I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t leave you.”

Victor blinked up at him, and then his eyes went a bit starry. “There’s my Yuuri who danced with me and skated so beautifully to _Eros_ ,” he murmured.

Yuuri blushed, torn between embarrassment and pride. He was also lying in between Victor’s legs now, he realized. Holding his breath, he tentatively ground his hips down.

He was still wearing his shorts.

“I think you’ll have to take those off,” Victor teased.

Yuuri’s blush intensified, and a pang of uncertainty gripped him. He edged away from Victor just a little. “You know I’ve never done this before,” he mumbled. 

Victor nuzzled his cheek in apology. “Do you want to?”

He gulped and nodded. “I think...I think it would feel really good to be inside you.”

Victor whimpered. “That’s what I mean about the teasing, Yuuri.”

“S-sorry.” Yuuri fidgeted with the waistband of his shorts and then pushed them off. Another noise escaped Victor at the sight of his cock, this one impatient, aroused. 

“You have to tell me if I do something wrong, okay?” he managed to say. 

Victor nodded and then arched his back, tilting his head so Yuuri could scent him.

Such a wonderful scent. It was getting stronger, filling their nest to the brim and overflowing into the room. Yuuri was aching, he was so hard. He rutted against Victor’s skin. If he just shifted a little lower, he could….

Their cocks rubbed together. “Victor,” he gasped

“Darling,” Victor crooned, nibbling on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“I—I—” Words seemed impossible suddenly. His cock kept slipping through Victor’s slick, a torturous, tantalizing friction. It wasn’t going inside, but to reach down there would mean detaching himself from Victor’s arms, to give up kissing and mouthing the tender skin of Victor’s neck.

Victor petted his hair. “You’re going out of your head, aren’t you? But it will get better once you’re inside, I promise. Oh, Yuuri, I _want_ you inside. Hurry, hurry.”

He was trying, but he couldn’t get _in_ , and—

“Ah!” Victor jolted, sucking in a breath. “That’s it—there—oh—”

He was pressed to Victor’s entrance, the tip of his cock barely inside. Instinct took over, and he snapped his hips, penetrating further. Victor’s muscles clenched and then relaxed around him.

“Oh,” he breathed, shutting his eyes at the sensation. Victor was so slick and open, his body welcoming and ready, saying _yes, this, I want you._

Bracing his arms on either side of Victor, he tried an experimental thrust. Victor groaned and canted his hips, helping him sink in even deeper. 

Again. Again, working into a steady rhythm. Victor had initially shut his eyes, but now he opened them, meeting Yuuri’s. This close to each other, Yuuri didn’t need his glasses to be able to see Victor’s expression. 

Pleasure. Trust. The openness that Victor always gave him--hiding nothing, ready to give everything to Yuuri if he asked. 

_You have all of me too. Everything I am._

His knot was starting to form, snagging on Victor’s rim, turning his own breaths into harsh pants. “I’m...Victor, I’m…”

“I know.” Victor reached up to brush Yuuri’s hair off his forehead. “You’re going to knot me, aren’t you? Will you fill me up, Yuuri?”

He couldn’t reply. His knot had swelled, locking him in place, and his only choice was to press down in quick, short pumps, the muscles in his abdomen straining and his arms beginning to tremble.

Victor moaned, reaching down to stroke himself. “Your knot feels so amazing, Yuuri. It’s pressing--ahh….” 

He came a second later, and Yuuri gritted his teeth at the sudden increased pressure on his knot. He humped into Victor once, twice more and then curled into Victor’s chest, arms giving out as his orgasm hit. Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s neck, making contented noises as Yuuri filled him.

The effects of Victor’s heat-scent made him come more than usual. He hadn’t imagined that coming inside someone could be so erotic, but the sensation of his cock twitching in Victor’s body, of knowing that he was putting his seed there made him scrunch his toes, shivering a little at how good it felt. Victor’s breaths were steady right by his ear, and he nosed Victor’s neck again.

“You’re okay?” he whispered.

“Very okay. I feel so good, Yuuri. And you? Did you like it?”

He nodded, tightening his arms around Victor. 

Victor hummed and milked Yuuri’s knot with his inner muscles, making him gasp and drawing out another spurt of come. 

“Keep going, please,” Victor said. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“K-keep going?” Yuuri stuttered. But he wasn’t going soft. In fact—he circled his hips, and Victor yelped. But not a sound of pain, no definitely not. 

He was going to come in Victor again, he realized. It was impossible to pull out all the way with his knot, but he could thrust a little bit, and so he did, back and forth, while Victor whimpered in pleasure.

His second orgasm was so intense it hurt for a second.

“Can you feel it?” he panted, eyes squeezed shut. 

A moan of assent from Victor. “There’s so much, Yuuri, and I want all of it. Give me everything you can.” 

Every time Yuuri shifted, Victor’s breath stuttered. Reaching down to where they were locked together, Yuuri gathered some of the slick still seeping out of Victor and then started stroking Victor’s cock.

“I want you to come again too,” he whispered. 

Victor bit his lip, brow furrowed, holding his breath. Yuuri flicked the sensitive tip. Sucking in a ragged breath, Victor came just as Yuuri wished, his cock jumping in Yuuri’s hand and spattering come onto his chest.

Yuuri rubbed a hand over Victor’s stomach, soothing him as his limbs twitched through the aftershocks. Victor’s eyes had gone unfocused. 

“My knot will go down in a bit, and then I’ll clean you up,” he said, carefully lowering himself to rest on top of Victor.

But Victor shook his head. “No—I need you in me, Yuuri. You have to stay.” 

Yuuri smiled, nosing his jaw and pressing a kiss there. “Aren’t you hungry? And you need some water to drink. A bath would be nice too, wouldn’t it?”

Victor wavered. “But…”

“Then we can come back to our nest,” he promised. 

“We can?”

“Of course.” 

That second orgasm seemed to have overwhelmed Victor a little, or perhaps it was being so full of Yuuri’s come. While Yuuri’s head was feeling a little clearer and his arousal ebbing a bit, Victor seemed dazed and shaky. 

“I don’t want you to pull out,” Victor protested again.

Yuuri thought a moment. “What if I put a plug in you for a bit?” He knew Victor had several anal plugs, as Victor had used one once when he was masturbating in front of Yuuri, who had almost come the second Victor pushed it into himself. 

Victor thought about this and finally nodded. Still, when Yuuri’s knot went down far enough for him to slip free, and he rose to fetch the plug, Victor grabbed his hand, reluctant to have Yuuri leave their nest. 

“I’ll be right back,” Yuuri soothed, tucking his fleece blanket around Victor, who gripped it tightly, watching while Yuuri first put on his glasses, then fetched the plug and some lube as quickly as he could and climbed back into their nest. 

Some of his come had leaked out of Victor. “I’ll just…” He swallowed, senses narrowing in on Victor’s slick hole again. With his fingers, he scooped up as much of his come as he could and pushed it back inside, followed by the plug. 

“Is that better?” he asked, studying Victor anxiously. 

Victor sighed, but nodded, then burrowed between two pillows, curling up into a tight ball. 

“Let’s go take a bath,” Yuuri coaxed. 

A muffled protest. 

“You need to clean up--otherwise our nest will get all dirty.” Although frankly some of the sheets were a lost cause already. 

A pause and then Victor emerged, letting Yuuri pull him to his feet. Yuuri slipped on his shorts again, wrapped a blanket around Victor’s shoulders, and then tugged him toward the bathroom. Victor waited quietly while he drew the bath, thoughts turned inward, one hand on his stomach. 

Once Victor was submerged in the hot water, Yuuri laid some towels on the floor and knelt on them, positioning himself behind Victor’s head. Taking a cloth, he leaned over and started washing Victor’s body. Victor was pliant under his hands, letting his head rest on Yuuri’s chest, his eyes closed. 

“Onsen,” Victor murmured. 

“What about it?” Yuuri asked, taking Victor’s right arm and extending it as he drew the cloth up and down, water droplets sprinkling into the tub. 

“The onsen is big. A big pool.” Victor spoke slowly, his voice slurred, as though all of his energy had been consumed in accepting Yuuri’s seed. 

“....Yes?” 

“Then you could be in the water too. At the onsen.”

“Oh.” He kissed Victor’s temple. “It’s okay like this.”

Victor rumbled a disagreement. “I’ll get a bigger bathtub.” A yawn. “With water jets.”

“Water jets?” He muffled a laugh in Victor’s hair. 

“What do you want, then, Yuuri?”

“In the bathtub?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing in particular. We can have water jets, if you want.” 

Victor frowned and pushed himself up a little so he could turn to look at Yuuri. “You have to tell me what _you_ want. So you like it here. So you want to stay.” 

His glasses were fogging up. Yuuri took them off and wiped them with a towel, clearing his throat. “I like it here,” he mumbled.  

Victor relaxed again, reassured, but added, “It’s your home now too.”

His stupid glasses--Yuuri sniffed, pushing them up on his nose, then wrapped his arms around Victor’s shoulders in a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Mmmm.” Victor was drifting again, his heat-scent, which had dissipated briefly, building once more. 

Yuuri swallowed, shifting, and took a deep breath. He concentrated on washing Victor’s hair, careful to keep the shampoo out of his eyes. But his cock was thickening. He gave in to the desire to lick the nape of Victor’s neck, tasting his clean, damp skin. Victor shivered. 

“Maybe you should take out the plug now,” Yuuri suggested. “So you can get clean and then we could go back to our nest and I could--I could--”

“Oh! Yes, _please_ , Yuuri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this up. Life got Very Busy, plus I had a really difficult time finding the right tone for the smut and had to keep rewriting the first part. Anyway, there's more on the way, but I thought I would put up this much as I know many were eager for the porn! Which has to be the fluffiest smut I have ever written. Ever. It is clear to me now that the fluff _is_ my kink with these two.


	5. Chapter 5

A half hour later, Yuuri had learned several things. One, the floor of the bathroom was quite hard, especially when you only had a thin towel between it and your back. Two, lying on the bathroom floor became uncomfortable very quickly. Three, however much he might want his knot to subside so he could get off the hard floor, watching Victor stroke himself to an orgasm while Yuuri was still buried inside him was not conducive to this endeavor. And finally, it had been an unwise idea to keep licking Victor (not to mention giving in to the urge to roll Victor’s nipples between his fingers). He’d found himself flat on his back, Victor riding him and biting his lip to keep from moaning too loudly, because Yuuri’s teasing had made Victor too impatient to wait until they returned to the soft warmth of their nest. 

Victor came into his fist, come spilling over his knuckles. Then he sank back against Yuuri’s bent knees, his eyes heavy lidded, looking sated and very, very pleased with himself. 

Yuuri rubbed the top of Victor’s thigh, frowning a little as Victor touched his stomach with his sticky palm. “I’ll have to give you another bath.”

Victor shook his head. “No, Yuuri. No more baths. I want your scent to be on me--in me--all over.” He flexed his hips again, and Yuuri sucked in a startled breath, whimpering a bit.

“Give me a little more, Yuuri,” Victor whispered. “Just a little.” 

And he milked Yuuri’s knot until Yuuri did, shivering, almost unbearably sensitive. 

Then Victor put his clean hand to Yuuri’s face, smoothing his thumb tenderly over Yuuri’s mouth and chin and cheeks.

“My Yuuri,” he murmured. 

Yuuri’s lips trembled, and he gripped Victor’s wrist, keeping his hand there and turning his face so he could nuzzle into Victor’s palm. 

Eventually his cock did slip free, and Victor put the plug in again. They were both unsteady on their feet as they made their way back to the nest. Once there, Yuuri made Victor put on his robe and some socks and got him settled among the blankets. He dressed too, locating his shorts and t-shirt after a bit of searching. 

“Now I’m getting us some food and some water. You stay here,” he added when Victor made to rise. 

Victor’s eyes widened when Yuuri returned with his arms laden with snacks and cookies. “Yuuri! When did you get all that?”

“Yesterday. I got your favorites, see.” He let the snacks cascade into the nest and then went to fetch some water and two oranges. Victor was already deep into a package of cookies when he returned. 

“We really shouldn’t,” Victor said through a mouthful. “Yakov would be furious if he knew. Oh, _Umaibo_!”

Yuuri let him grab the bag of corn puffs. “I brought them from Hasetsu.”

“And you kept it secret?”

“I knew you’d eat them all otherwise. Remember how many you ate that night we marathoned those horror movies?”

“I didn’t like that at _all_ , Yuuri. I had nightmares after, and you wouldn’t let me sleep with you.”

“Victor, they weren’t really scary. They were all from the seventies and eighties with the silly looking monsters.”

“There is nothing silly about a twenty-foot centipede, Yuuri.”

“It was obviously rubber.”

“And all the blood!”

“Fake blood.” Yuuri sighed and watched the corn puffs dwindle and then vanish. He picked at the peel of his orange. “We should eat something healthy too.”

Victor frowned but took the orange slice Yuuri handed to him. Next was the bottle of water. Victor took a sip and then gulped the rest of it down. 

For several minutes, they kept a steady pace. _Fried, fatty, sugary bliss_ , Yuuri thought, licking salty residue off his fingers. 

“Oh!” Victor exclaimed suddenly, distressed. “We’ve gotten crumbs all over our nest.”

“It’s all right. I’ll just shake out the sheets.” Yuuri paused, taking in Victor’s expression. “Is that okay?”

A reluctant nod from Victor, who curled up in the window seat, watching, while Yuuri got rid of the crumbs as best he could. When he started rearranging the sheets, pillows, and blankets, though, Victor hurried over to do it himself, fussing and tucking until it was to his satisfaction again. 

Yuuri stood by, fidgeting. He’d tried adjusting a pillow ever so slightly, but Victor gave him a wounded look and moved it back to its original position. As it became apparent that rebuilding the nest was going to take some time, Yuuri’s eyes started wandering around the room, and he drifted toward the bookshelves against one wall. 

Most of the titles of the books were in Russian, of course, but Victor had set other things there as well. Two black-and-white photos, one of a woman and one of a man, faded a little from age. Perhaps Victor’s grandparents? A glass dish with old dog tags in it. Yuuri touched them gently, thinking of his own Vicchan. On the side of the bookshelf hung several ID badges from various skating events. Victor was so young in some of the photos. 

“Yuuri,” Victor’s plaintive voice cried, and Yuuri turned around quickly, feeling guilty. But Victor didn’t look angry that Yuuri had been examining his possessions. He was back in their nest, holding out a hand. 

Relieved, Yuuri joined him, and they burrowed under the blankets. Victor’s heat-scent was getting stronger again, but Yuuri felt drained, no longer hungry and thirsty but very sleepy. He’d never had so many orgasms in such quick succession, and he wasn’t sure he could manage another round. 

Victor made a hurt noise, his forehead wrinkling. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri mumbled. “I--I don’t think I can right now. I know you need me, but…” 

“It wasn’t that,” Victor said. “I’m tired, and a little sore, and I want to sleep. But part of me wants more.” He sighed. “I never like this part of a heat.” 

He took Victor’s hand, squeezing it. “I don’t know what I can do to help. Tell me, please. Tell me what you want.” 

Victor sighed again. “Maybe with your fingers? Gently and not too fast. I think if I came again, I’d be able to sleep.” 

“Okay.” He kissed Victor’s ring and then pushed back the blankets, helping Victor settle on his stomach, legs parted. He eased out the plug first and laid it aside. Victor was producing more slick, and along with Yuuri’s come from earlier, it was a wet, messy slide. Victor’s hole did look puffy and red, though, and Yuuri was careful as he eased in first one finger and then two. When he started pumping them, Victor took a deep breath, melting into the sheets. 

It was quiet, here in their nest, the sounds of traffic outside on the street muffled. He could hear every hitch and shift in Victor’s breathing, and he listened carefully, attentive for when he found a particularly good spot. When he reached under Victor’s body to stroke his cock with his other hand, Victor moaned softly, and his fingers clenched reflexively in the sheets before relaxing again.

It took a while, and Yuuri’s hand was getting a little cramped, but finally Victor’s body tensed up, and his orgasm rolled over him, long and slow. It left Victor panting and shivering. Yuuri pulled the blankets around them again, shutting out the glow of the lamp that he was too tired to get up and turn off. Taking off his glasses, he stretched out an arm and set them as far away as possible so he wouldn’t roll over them in his sleep. 

He could tell sleep was pulling at Victor too, but Victor struggled against it still. 

“You’re all right, Yuuri, aren’t you?” he asked. “You’ve enjoyed yourself, haven’t you?”

Yuuri cleared his throat. “Very much. And...and you?”

“It’s been amazing. I never minded my heats before, but it’s been so different with a real nest. And with you here with me.” 

“I guess you’ll go back on suppressants now?”

“Yes. I can’t go into heat in the middle of a competition. It wouldn’t be good for you, either.”

Yuuri was quiet for a few minutes, struggling with himself. “And--and after that?” he finally asked. 

But Victor was asleep. 

 

They both awoke at the same time the next morning. Yuuri opened his eyes and then sniffed the air tentatively. Victor’s heat-scent was still there, but muted and less insistent. Their nest surrounded them, a safe, cozy barrier. 

He felt calm and very present in a way he rarely did except when he lost himself in a routine, everything drawing away except his body and the ice. 

Victor was watching him, his eyes soft. 

“Victor,” Yuuri said. “Will you still want to be with me when we aren’t skating competitively anymore?” 

It was easy, so easy after all to ask the question. 

Victor looked surprised and then tender. “Have you been worrying about that, Yuuri?”

“Yes,” Yuuri admitted, looking down. “I know you love the part of me that’s a skater, but what about when I’m not as good as I am now?”

A soft laugh from Victor, and Yuuri almost panicked, but then Victor’s hand was warm on his shoulder. 

“I’ve been worrying about the same thing, you know,” Victor said. 

Yuuri blinked, looking back at him again. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not always going to be as good as I am now, either. In fact, I think I have more to worry about than you do. My hair’s already started getting thinner.”

“It’s not! And why would any of that matter?” Yuuri asked. 

“I know you’ve idolized me, Yuuri. It’s a lot to live up to--that image of me in your mind.”

“It’s different now. I know who you are now--who you really are, I mean.” 

“And that’s...enough?”

“Of course!” He groped for the words to explain. “You’re...you’re _Victor_.” 

“And you’re _Yuuri_ ,” Victor replied and kissed him on the nose. 

Tears stung his eyes, and Yuuri tried to blink them away, helpless to stop a giddy smile from spreading over his face. So this is what Chris had meant when he urged him to talk to Victor. Probably Victor had confessed some of those same worries to Chris. 

“I want to be with you always,” Victor continued, and it was only because they were in their nest, with nothing but the warm, open air between them, that Yuuri wasn’t reduced to a stammering, blushing mess. 

“I want the same thing,” he choked out, and let Victor hug him close. 

“Let’s go make eggs and pancakes,” Victor said after a bit. “I’m starving! And then we can do creative things with the syrup.” 

Judging by the spike in Victor’s heat-scent, Yuuri was pretty sure that Victor’s idea of “creative things” involved his mouth on various parts of Victor’s body. Before, he would have been hopelessly embarrassed, but now he wasn’t, only intrigued, his arousal starting to build again. Although he’d have to make sure to keep his fleece blanket out of harm’s way. 

 

Victor’s heat lasted into the next morning and then faded, his regular scent finally returning. After they each had a shower, Yuuri started dismantling their nest, sorting all the sheets, blankets, and pillows into various piles from “escaped unscathed” to “wash immediately.” Thank God Victor had a washer and dryer in his apartment. 

While Yuuri did this, Victor scrolled through all the texts he had received from Georgi, exclaiming over the various photo updates of how Makkachin was doing. 

“He’s getting along so wonderfully with Svetlana,” Victor said, showing Yuuri a photo of the two dogs curled up on Georgi’s bed and another of Svetlana with Makkachin’s ear in her mouth. “But I’ll text Georgi that he can bring Makkachin home now.” 

“Okay,” Yuuri said over an armful of pillows. “Should we go practice this afternoon?”

“Tomorrow,” Victor replied. “We’ll start again tomorrow.” 

The sheets were in the washer, and Victor was talking with Georgi while accepting kisses from an excited Makkachin, when Yuuri stepped into his own room to get a pair of shoes so they could take Makkachin for a walk. His eyes landed on the bed, still neatly made, and on his suitcase, standing against the wall. 

In the other room, Georgi said goodbye, and he heard the door shut. Victor said something to Makkachin in Russian, and then switched to Japanese, calling out to ask if Yuuri was ready yet.

“Just a minute,” Yuuri shouted back. He grabbed the little cactus plant that he had brought with him from Hasetsu off the desk and carried it to Victor’s bedroom. Glancing around, he hesitated a moment, and then set it on the dresser closest to the window, next to the clock and a container of Victor’s lip balm. When he turned back around, Victor was standing in the doorway. 

“I thought...um, that it should be in here.” Yuuri cleared his throat, feeling silly. But then the first tendrils of Victor’s scent reached him--happy, delighted. 

“It’s perfect there.” Victor paused, touching a finger to his lips as a thought occurred to him. “I’ll have to get the closets enlarged. In addition to the new bathtub.”

“I don’t have that many clothes,” Yuuri protested.

“Nonsense, Yuuri. There’ll be all your costumes--and don’t think I’ve forgotten your unfortunate suit and tie situation. Besides, where else am I going to keep all the extra pillows I just bought? I’ll want them for our nest again when the time comes.” 

“All right, then,” Yuuri said, surrendering to the warm affection and affirmation that this was their space, their home, their life together. “But in that case, I think I’ll buy some more scarves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic fluff, how I adore you.
> 
> Again, I'm so sorry for the delay in getting the end of this posted, especially as it's not like it was that long. Work overwhelmed me, and I had to put this aside for a bit. Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments!! 
> 
> The title of the fic is from the poem "To Say Before Going to Sleep," by Rainer Maria Rilke.


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